Sandy
She was relaxing.
Relaxing! Her. Sandy Talbert, was able to sit back and enjoy the afternoon sunlight. It was remarkable, but after having sold out of everything so early on a Saturday morning, there was little else for her to do. So she’d packed up shop and headed for the comforts—and solitude—of home.
Now she sat on her porch, well-worn paperback in hand, swing moving lazily back and forth in the mild fall breeze. The sun was still high in the sky, tracking from her right to left. In another handful of hours it would fall below the horizon, providing a spectacular sunset view from her bedroom inside. It was one of the best parts of the farm, though she rarely got to enjoy the view from inside. Usually she was still working.
It really was wonderful to be able to take the afternoon off. Sandy hadn’t felt so calm and at ease in many years. It was a welcome change, though she knew tomorrow she’d be right back at it. This time of year she couldn’t waste an entire extra day given to her. That was one more day of working the fields, giving her a chance to make just that little bit more money. And she needed it. The property-tax bill had been waiting in the mail for her, along with a notice saying it was going up next year.
Of course it was going up. It never went down. Ever. No matter how “temporary” the measure was. Sandy knew it was pointless to argue, though. So she just set it aside and started figuring out what she was going to have to do to make the payments next year. Along with the increases to power that would probably come shortly too. Thankfully she was on well water, and didn’t have to pay the government for that!
Maybe if she came into some money she could get solar installed, but she would have to get mighty lucky for that to happen.
Her peaceful reading was interrupted by a dust cloud moving up the long driveway. Beside her Champ lifted his head. A moment later he let out a warning growl and shuffled forward to sit between her and the steps. Sandy trusted Champ’s instincts. Slowly putting down the book, she got up and went inside, grabbing the loaded shotgun from its rack by the door.
Sandy didn’t like visitors. When Champ didn’t like them, she made a habit of being prepared. Just in case.
“I bet you Rusty got his tax bill today too,” she muttered angrily. “What do you say?”
Champ whined softly in response, but he didn’t move his attention from the oncoming truck.
“Yeah. It’s him.”
Sandy set the gun down, but kept it in within close reach. However much she might detest Rusty, she wasn’t going to shoot him. Not outside of her dreams at least. But her neighbor was a volatile man, with a temper that could spark over the smallest thing. Sandy didn’t risk her safety. Not anymore.
“Hello, Rusty,” she said slowly, wondering if she’d jinxed herself by praying she wouldn’t run into him at the market. That would have been much more preferable than doing so here. Alone.
Champ growled as Rusty walked up to the front porch.
“Good boy,” he said, in a voice that showed he didn’t particularly care much for the dog.
Champ growled louder, straining at him. Sandy eyed the dog. He was a good judge of character. Some sort of mix between a collie and something…bigger, he weighed nearly a hundred pounds, and it was all lean muscle. Even Rusty, a big man in his own right, didn’t try to cross Champ.
“What do you want, Rusty?” She had no time for games today. This was supposed to be a good day, where she could relax without a care. Instead she was forced to deal with the person she quite possibly hated most in the world.
“Oh, I just thought I’d come by and see how things are going.” He grinned. It wasn’t a nice look. “I got my property-tax bill in the mail. I figured you probably had as well.”
She didn’t respond.
“I missed you at the market today. Did you stay home?”
“Sold out early,” she drawled, leaning back onto her swing.
“Good for you. Though, I guess it can’t be that hard when you don’t bring very much.”
Sandy rolled her eyes. Leave it to Rusty to turn something good into an insult. His tent was the biggest at the market. His property was coincidentally the largest around, and he liked to make sure everyone knew it.
When it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything, he pushed onward. “I wanted to see if you had had another chance to consider my offer?”
“Piss off, Dusty. My answer hasn’t changed in three years. It’s not changing today. And tell your brother down at the municipal office to stop breaking the law and telling you how far behind on payments I am. That’s illegal.”
Rusty chortled loudly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Right. How else would the asshole know that she was behind? Sandy didn’t announce that sort of thing to anyone. She kept her life private, the way it should be. No, Rusty had been told by Dusty what was going on, specifically because he wanted her property, and wanted it bad.
“I’m not selling. Now go away.”
“Don’t be stupid, Sandy. I’m offering you more than the bank ever will.”
“It’s not the money,” she snapped, losing her calm. “It’s the fact that I don’t want to sell.”
Rusty’s face shut down. He hated when she said no, something Sandy suspected he wasn’t used to hearing. Rusty’s property surrounded her on three sides; only the road that ran along the fourth stopped him from hemming her in. The farm across the road was more than big enough that Rusty couldn’t afford it all. But her place? While huge for her, it was tiny when compared to the massive conglomerate run by Rusty.
“We both know you can’t keep this up forever,” he said after a moment, his face red with rage. “You’re going to miss a payment. And then another. And another. Eventually you’ll be forced to sell to the bank. Don’t embarrass yourself like that. Just sign it over to me and enjoy your money.”
“This farm has been in my family for generations. I’m not selling. Now get off my property.” She reached out and grabbed the shotgun, resting it across her lap. “Or else I’ll call the sheriff and tell him you were trespassing again.”
Dusty’s face was apoplectic, but he smothered anything else he might have been about to say and stomped over to his truck. The engine roared and he spun around in a cloud of dirt before taking off down the road.
“Well, so much for our relaxing evening, eh, Champ?”
Her mixed mutt came over to her and lay his head on her lap, whining softly as he looked up at her.
“It’ll be okay,” she whispered, stroking his big head. “It’ll be okay.”
Champ turned his head swiftly, his tongue flicking out and licking her hand as she tried to pet him.
Then his mouth dropped open in a doggy pant as he looked at her happily.
Yeah. Everything was going to be okay.
Somehow.